


A Proposition

by GoodGuyJean



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Aged up characters, Bisexual Jean, Canon-ish, Gay Armin, Jearmin - Freeform, M/M, background eremika, background springles, background yumikuri, do i ever write anything that isn't jearmin?, everyone is apparently in their mid twenties, hange is commander, like potentially canonverse in the future pre-Grisha files, maybe someday, non-binary Hange, of course its jearmin, spoilers for post chapter 85
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 02:30:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11545599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoodGuyJean/pseuds/GoodGuyJean
Summary: Ten years after the events of the main canon (in an alternate future I dreamed up shortly before the Grisha Files were released), Captain Jean Kirstein is training scrubs at a settlement outside the Walls. Finally able to settle down, Jean just might be willing to uproot himself and go on another adventure when his best friend Armin asks for his help . . .Rating may change.





	A Proposition

**Author's Note:**

> Sooooo . . .
> 
> I wrote this back in September, before the Grisha files and the curse of Ymir etc, so obviously all my half-assed world-building is obsolete lol. I found this when I was cleaning out my files between A exam projects (helpfully titled "fanfiction 3"; "fanfiction 1" is literally a blank document and "fanfiction 2" is kinda interesting but unfinished; "fanfiction 4" is "Regret", so you see where this piece here fits into the trajectory of my fanfic writing career lol). I figured why not post it? It's . . . well, I'll talk more about it in the end notes, when I can explain my thought process. Anyway, enjoy! :)

“And that’s all there is to it. Dismissed.”

“Sir!” Thirty adolescents stand from their benches to salute Jean, their fists thumping their chests at almost exactly the same time. There are a few stragglers who are off beat. _Still, they’re getting better_. Jean fights a smirk as he returns the salute. As his class starts filing out through the door at the back, Jean turns his attention to disassembling the set of ODM gear sitting on his desk. He’s been teaching the newest batch of recruits the mechanics of the gear and how to perform maintenance on it before they start attaching it to their hips and swinging around the training grounds. Inevitably some will still manage to crash into something and damage the gear, and then he’ll have to supervise them while they repair it themselves. _“You’re a soldier now, chump. You gotta take care of your own equipment.”_ And then he’ll have to check it once they’re done to make sure they won’t get themselves killed when they go back out on the training course.

“Work, work, work,” he mutters to himself as he detaches the empty gas canisters from their holsters.

He looks up when he hears the door squeak. A tall, pale young man with short black hair and a pair of wire-rimmed spectacles perched on his nose comes up to the desk and salutes. “Captain Kirstein, sir.”

Jean pulls a face, but stops fussing over the gear to half-heartedly salute back. “Yeah, yeah. What is it, Muller?”

“Telegram from the settlement, sir.” Muller reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a small neatly folded note. He hovers nearby while Jean scans the short missive.

“Excellent. The shipment of gas has come in. The recruits are going to burn too much when we actually let them try the damn things.” He hands the note back to Muller. “Send a few trainees out to pick it up tomorrow.”

Muller salutes again and turns to leave. Jean raises a hand to stop him. “Hang on Muller, I have the lesson plans for you.” He opens the top draw in the desk and pulls out a stack of papers covered in his messy scrawl and offers it to his assistant. “Look them over tonight and let me know if you have any questions before I leave on Saturday.”

Muller nods as he takes the stack and tucks under his arm. “I imagine Schmidt will be handling the first practical ODM lesson while I teach the classes on tactics and formations?”

Jean grimaces. “Yes. Hopefully she won’t push the cadets too hard too fast.” No one can doubt Schmidt's talent on the gear, but sometimes she can be a little too enthusiastic. She also has little patience for overly technical explanations, insisting that one has to _feel_ the ODM gear in order to master it. “Make sure she doesn’t kill them.”

“Of course, sir.” His assistant gives a final stiff salute and exits the room. Jean sighs as he finished packing up the gear. _One day Muller’s gonna have to pull that stick out of his ass. Trust command to stick me with an assistant who just loooves protocol._ Schmidt's wicked grin and rambunctious antics pop into his mind. _But the other end of the spectrum is just as tedious_.

Rubbing the space between his eyes, Jean stashes the gear back in its cabinet and heads out of the room himself.

He steps out into a crisp fall evening. It’s barely five in the afternoon, but the sun is already starting to set, staining the sky a light pink. The deciduous trees are starting to turn red and yellow, but they’re not dropping their leaves just yet. Jean sticks his hands in his jacket pockets and takes in the picturesque scenery as he trudges across the muddy training grounds towards the officers’ mess. On the other side of the yard, he sees Muller rounding up a few of the senior trainees, probably to brief them on the expedition to the settlement tomorrow. Even at this distance he can tell Muller’s in his element. Jean grins to himself as he finishes crossing to the mess and steps inside.

The officers’ mess at Outpost Erwin is small but comfortable. The whole room is paneled in warm wood and there are enough crystal-powered lamps strung from the ceiling to light up the space. There are two long tables standing parallel to each other in the center of the room and small serving station with access to the kitchen on the far side. The serving station is always manned by a pair of trainees; as far as Jean knows it’s considered a cushy job to get assigned to serving the officers for the week. He strides over to the line and picks a tray, grinning down at the young blond cadet who is ladling soup out this evening. “What’s the prognosis, Daniels?”

Daniels shrugs and smiles shyly back as she places a steaming mug on his outstretched tray. “Smells like leeks, sir.”

Jean winces. “So it tastes like ass?”

“I-I couldn’t say, sir.” Daniels hands him a hunk of dark bread to go with the soup and Jean takes his meal back to one of the tables.

He’s barely lifted his spoon before someone plops down on the bench beside him. “Hey-ho there, boss!”

Jean lets an exasperated breath out of his nose. “Doesn’t rank mean anything to you, Schmidt?” he chides.

The young woman to his right shoots him a cheeky grin. She’s almost as tall as him, with dark skin, close-cropped black hair, and large brown eyes. She laughs at his exaggerated scowl and offers a quick salute. “Oh, so when we follow protocol you shrug it off like it doesn’t matter, but when we start to take your nonchalance seriously you get your balls in a twist? Or is it just me? I know you like pretending to be mad at me almost as much as you like acting oh-so-charming around the trainees. Daniels is shy, you shouldn’t poke at her.”

Jean coughs some of his soup (which isn’t as bad as he was initially expecting) back into his bowl. Schmidt cackles while his face turns pink. “W-what the hell are you implying?”

“Oh nothing. That stick up your ass is a little smaller than whatever is propping Muller up, but I know you would never cross the ‘great divide.’ But if you’re not careful, some of the maggots might develop feelings for you.” She winks and Jean feels his cheeks getting hotter.

“Fuck off, _Squad Leader_ ,” he mutters, turning back to his soup. Before the culling of the remaining titans and the Great Excursion, the difference in rank between a captain and a squad leader would have been negligible, but under General Dok’s reforms the two had become distinct enough for Jean to take a swipe at Schmidt whenever she annoyed him.

Schmidt waves off his grumbling with an airy hand as more of the officers start settling down at the table with him. He nods to the others in turn; most everyone here is of a close enough rank that salutes aren’t really necessary. If the outpost’s commander decides to join them instead of eating dinner in her quarters, they’ll have to stand attention, but they all know after a year or so of being stationed out here that such an event is unlikely to happen.

“So, tell me more about this wedding you saved up two weeks’ worth of leave to attend, _Captain_ ,” Schmidt says innocently as she breaks off a piece of her roll.

“It’s the usual. Two old war buddies are getting hitched and I’ll be disowned if I don’t show up.” _We’ll all laugh and cry and remember the war. I’ll see all their smiling faces again and think all the shit we went through was mostly worth it. And my best friend Armin will have to come back from his adventures . . ._

“I heard it’s none other than the great Mikasa Ackerman, humanity’s strongest, and her shifter lover who’re finally tying the knot.” Schmidt tries to sound casual, but Jean can tell she’s itching for some gossip. Schmidt appreciates a good story almost as much as she appreciates being the one who gets to spread it around.

“That about sums it up.”

Schmidt is not so easily put off. “What’s she like?”

Jean polishes off his soup by lifting the ceramic bowl to his mouth and sipping it down. When he sets the dish back on his tray, Schmidt is still looking at him eagerly. “Schmidt, I’ve told you about her before. There’s not much else to know, except that she’s getting married and that Eren will hopefully be in his human form when they do the deed . . .” Jean feels is face go warm again as Schmidt chuckles.

“Aw, but you tell such good stories when you get going! You know she’s my hero . . . next to you, of course, Captain.” She punches him lightly on the shoulder. Jean rolls his eyes and stands up, tray in his hands.

“Flattery doesn’t get you anywhere, Squad Leader. Just try not to kill my scrubs while I’m gone and I promise I’ll give all the details of how the exceedingly talented and fucking gorgeous Mikasa Ackerman got married to a suicidal blockhead who had his head so far up his ass for years he didn’t even realize how good he had it with her.”

Schmidt's grin splits her face in half as she offers another semi-serious salute. “You have yourself deal, sir!”

Jean shakes his head and gets up to turn in his tray.

* * *

 

It’s a two-day ride from Outpost Erwin back to the Walls, with regular stops to change horses at smaller settlements along the way. The weather is blessedly clear and cool as Jean heads north along the dirt roads, back to the city of his birth. If someone had told him when he graduated as a cadet eleven years ago that he would live to see the end of the titan menace, the opening of the Walls, and the establishment of peace treaties with the more advanced civilizations that had continued to thrive outside the Walls, Jean would have laughed in their face. But here he is, galloping past new farms and burgeoning settlements as he travels to meet up with his old friends.

Sometimes he marvels that they’ve all managed to survive. When he joined the Survey Corps at the age of fifteen after completing his military training, he had a vision of their collective doom. He had mentally prepared himself to die in a titan’s stomach somewhere in what had then been the no-man’s-land between Walls Rose and Maria. It had seemed too surreal when the century-long conflict finally came to an end and projects for advancing beyond the Walls had begun. To think that in only a decade they had already made it this far . . . Jean just can’t quite believe it.

Occasionally he still wakes up in the middle of the night, soaked through with cold sweat, shouting the names of his friends and comrades who have not lived long enough to see the marvelous world which they now inhabit. The military medics tell him that some soldiers can never recover from the time they spend in battle, that he may have to live with the night terrors and sudden bouts of panic his whole life. Jean supposes it’s a small price to pay for the safety of the human race, but that knowledge isn’t very helpful in the middle of an episode.

However, Jean’s noticed that visiting his friends from the 104th always seems to ease some of his perpetual tension, perhaps because he knows that they’ve witnessed the same horrors as him. He wishes he could visit them more often, but they’ve all scattered since end of the war. Although Jean has decided to remain in the military, Sasha and Connie retired to open up a tavern in Wall Maria after the Great Excursion began. The royal government offers what pensions it can for those soldiers with honorable discharges, so Sasha and Connie live relatively well off of that and the profits they make from their bar. On the other hand, Eren, Mikasa, and Armin had initially stayed in the Survey Corps under Hange’s command. As the world opened up for the humans who had remained trapped within the Walls for a century, the Survey Corps shifted its purpose from discovering as much about the enemy titans as possible to exploring and assisting with expansion. A few years ago, Eren and Mikasa had returned to settle in the Walls with cushy jobs as special operatives who answered directly to General Dok and Queens Historia and Ymir. Armin, as everyone had expected, remained with Hange and the Corps, eagerly exploring the world he had spent his childhood dreaming about.

Of all of his friends, Jean finds he misses Armin the most. Perhaps it’s because Armin is always going off on missions and therefore less available than any of the others, but even when he was around more often Jean still preferred his company to the others’. Sasha and Connie are always up for a prank, and Jean has to admit that he’s always somewhat enjoyed needling Eren and daydreaming about Mikasa, but when he feels his steadiest when he’s with Armin. Jean doesn’t always agree with Armin’s philosophies, but he likes to pick Armin’s brain and debate theories with the other man; he finds his other friends are far less interested in politics and the hows of the world than the two of them. Armin writes to him as often as he can, but his notes from the field are always rushed and it’s difficult to maintain correspondence when Armin is moving around.

Armin and Hange will be in town for the wedding as well, assuming that they don’t get delayed by some natural disaster or an exploratory mission gone wrong. Jean tries not to worry; he knows better than to question the abilities of Armin and the Commander, but there’s a lot of risk out there in a wide world. And no matter how often he tells Armin to be careful, he knows the young man would do _anything_ —sacrifice _everything_ —if he thought it would benefit humanity.

Jean refuses to ponder why the thought of Armin being in perpetual danger fills him with the kind of dread he associates with fighting titans, or why every letter he receives from Armin makes his heart skip a beat and a smile spread across his face.

* * *

 

Jean rides into the capital just before sunset on the second day. Even after about ten years, it still feels weird to ride into Wall Maria from the _outside_ , and he still experiences a lick of panic when he sees the gates to the wall standing wide open. _The titans aren’t a threat anymore, they’re gone_. Even in the evening, the paved streets of New Shiganshina are bustling with people, coming back from work and finishing up their shopping. Connie and Sasha’s place isn’t too far from the wall, so it’s a short trot through the streets on his horse until he’s outside the tavern. It’s a relatively large stone and timber building with a grand sign that reads “The Boar’s Head” in gold letters over the double doors.

Jean dismounts and hands his horse off to a stablehand before taking the two porch steps in a single stride and dramatically pushing both doors open. “Honey, I’m home!”

He barely has time to take in the dark polished wood and warm light of the crystal-lamps before there’s a loud shriek and two smaller people tackle him in a fierce hug. “Jeeeeaann!” He hears Connie sob into his chest while Sasha pelts him with babbling questions about his trip and the roads and his recruits and his job . . .

“Oi!” Jean gasps out. “Let a man breathe, you two!” He playfully shoves them both away. They stand back, Connie still hiccupping and tearful, overwhelmed by emotion. Jean grins as he gives them both a look over. Connie Springer has barely grown since their days in the Survey Corps and is still sporting his signature buzz cut. He has a bit of stumble on his chin now and his clothes are a touch nicer, but he’s still instantly recognizable as companionable Connie. His wife Sasha Blouse stands a little taller than him. She’s wearing her stringy dark hair in a messy bun on the top of her head and her face looks a little fleshed out since her days living on army rations, but she’s sporting her familiar silly grin and Jean can’t help but smile back. As he takes stock of his teary-eyed friends after about six months apart he notices something else different about Sasha; she’s looking distinctly rounder in the middle.

Suddenly it clicks.

“W-what the fuck!” He splutters, gesturing wildly with both hands at Sasha. “You’re pregnant!”

Sasha laughs delightedly and claps her hands and Connie blubbers happily again. “Four month’s now!” She crows.

For a moment Jean can only gape wordlessly as he processes this information, but then he recovers his voice. “Fucking hell, congratulations Potato Girl!” He unthinkingly sweeps her into a giant hug but just as quickly releases her when she lightly thumps his side with her fist. “Oh hell, I’m sorry, I f-forgot; have to be careful now.”

Sasha scowls up at him, but her lips are twitching. “That’s not it, idiot! Don’t call me Potato Girl!”

Jean waves his hand in a placating gesture and then gives Connie a friendly shove. “And congratulations to you, you sly dog!” He’s grinning stupidly now, basking in the glow of his friends and their joy about their expanding family. “Of course you’re going to tell it to call me Uncle Jean.”

“Uncle Horse-face, more like.” Two other people have joined them by the door now. The speaker is none other than a smirking Eren Yeager himself, clad in black hooded jacket and simple clothes that belie his high rank as a special ops officer. He’s growing out his dark hair; it’s curling just past his ears. The bastard’s as handsome as ever, but Jean consoles himself with the fact that he’ll always be slightly taller than his erstwhile rival. Eren’s closely followed by his striking fiancée Mikasa. Jean is firmly of the opinion that Mikasa is objectively the most beautiful woman in the world, with her straight black hair softly framing her perfectly symmetrical face and dark eyes outlined with long curling lashes. He also knows that Mikasa Ackerman is the most deadly human in existence since her cousin, the late Captain Levi Ackerman. As she approaches he can make out a few suspicious bulges in her clothing that indicate she’s packing knives. Like Eren she’s dressed relatively simply apart from her distinctive bright red scarf (a beloved present from Eren when they were children, Jean gathers), but such clothes can’t really dim either her beauty or her innate power.

“Better a horse-face than a suicidal bastard like you,” Jean jibes without real menace as he extends a hand to Eren. They grip each other a little too tightly and smile evilly as if daring the other person to chicken out and let go first.

Sasha giggles. “Jean, we all know how broken-hearted you are over Eren, but Mikasa did really get there first.” Jean and Eren drop hands like the touch is suddenly scalding and glare at Sasha. It’s an old joke, but they go through the motions anyway. Jean feels a small twinge of anxiety at Sasha’s thoughtless comment; Jean’s never had any romantic or sexual feelings for Eren, but he has had a few relationships with men over the years. He likes to imagine that if he ever decided to tell his friends that he experiences attraction to men and women relatively equally they would be as accepting of him as they are of Queen Historia and her consort Ymir, but he worries that it would make situations like this one more awkward. _I’ll tell them if it becomes important, if I decide to settle down with a man or something_ , he assures himself without real conviction.

 _Armin’s told them he_ only _likes men and they’ve accepted him_ , another part of his mind reminds him. _You probably have nothing to worry about_.

_Armin’s different. We all guessed about him ages ago._

Mikasa smiles at Jean then, and he forgets his worry as he gapes at the way it lights up her whole face. He knows that Mikasa’s joy is less directed at him personally than it is a sign of her general happiness since she and Eren became a couple, but he soaks it up anyway. “Welcome back, Jean.”

He gives her a quick, awkward hug. “Th-thanks Mikasa.”

Sasha takes the initiative to usher the whole group back over to the bar so they’ll stop blocking the door. Connie wipes his eyes and returns to the kitchen to oversee this evening’s dinner, which smells delightfully like roasting meat. Sasha pulls a draft of beer for Jean and then sets to work seeing to her customers, who are just now starting to trickle in for the dinner hour. Jean takes a swig of his drink before turning back to Eren and Mikasa. “Have Armin and Hange made it back yet?” he asks, hoping he sounds nonchalant.

Eren and Mikasa exchange a worried glance. “We received a pigeon from Armin a week ago that they should be coming in some time this evening or tomorrow morning,” Mikasa explains. “There’s no real cause for worry; it’s just that they went northwest on this journey, to explore a range of mountains, and sometimes there are bad snow storms out there.” She’s talking more to a concerned looking Eren than to Jean, trying to assure her lover that their best friend is safe.

Jean tries to smile comfortingly. “Hange and Armin are scrappy, I’m sure they’re fine. And they can’t still be in the mountains if you got a pigeon a week ago.”

Eren nods but his jaw is still clenched.

They sit in tense silence for a few minutes before Jean decides to distract them all by asking them about their wedding plans. Eren and Mikasa shrug almost in unison and indicate that he should address any questions to Sasha and Connie, who are apparently planning the whole event with very little input from the happy couple themselves. “But since Sasha’s pregnant, the menus she keeps suggesting are getting weirder and weirder,” Eren grumbles and Jean laughs. At that exact moment Sasha returns to the bar from collecting the orders of her patrons to ask if they’re ready for dinner yet, or if they want to wait a little longer for Armin and Hange.

“Let’s give it a bit longer,” Eren says, and Sasha nods before taking the orders to her husband in the back.

Jean, Mikasa, and Eren continue chatting as the common room fills up around them. The conversation is somewhat stilted as they all glance at the doors every time some new patron comes in with a blast of chill autumn air. It’s almost completely dark outside now and Jean has to admit that the chances of their friends making it in tonight are looking slimmer and slimmer. Surely the city must close the gates to the outside soon, if they haven’t already.

Sasha’s just starting to bug them about dinner again when the doors burst open and three rather bedraggled-looking people clad in the green cloaks of the Survey Corps enter. “Barkeep! Pour us your three of your strongest drinks!” Commander Hange bellows, causing the buzzing room to fall silent.

Jean, Eren, and Mikasa all stand up at once to salute the commander as they enter. Connie comes out from the kitchens to salute too; Sasha rolls her eyes and pokes him to remind him he doesn’t have to stand attention for members of the military anymore. Across the room Hange, Armin, and tall woman with a dark red braid salute back. There’s the smallest pause before Eren, Mikasa, Connie, and Sasha all simultaneously rush the group at the door. Jean smiles widely but hangs back a bit to avoid getting crushed in the exuberance of the others. He sidles up to offer his hand to the redhead (presumably Hange’s latest assistant), but the commander breaks free the hubbub and pumps his hand and down instead. “Captain Kirstein!” they shout over the noise of the others’ fawning over Armin. “Still hanging in there, I see!”

“As always, Commander.”

Hange nods. Jean notices that they’ve cut their graying hair much shorter since he last saw them six months ago and there’s a new scar near their left ear. The eyepatch that covers their missing left eye is slightly askew under their goggles, making them look very wild indeed. They point to the woman next to them. “This is my assistant, Sergeant Flora Pendleton. Pendleton, this Captain Jean Kirstein, who’s stationed out at Outpost Erwin.” Flora Pendleton smiles tiredly at Jean by way of greeting. Jean sympathizes; working as Commander Hange Zoe’s personal aide must be an exhausting job.

By this time Armin has managed to disentangle himself somewhat from his gaggle of friends, though Eren and Mikasa are still patting him on the back and the head, telling him how much they’ve missed him. Jean watches as Armin exclaims over Sasha’s pregnancy and hugs both her and Connie. Despite being a bit of a mess, Armin is beaming lovingly at all his friends. His clothes are covered in mud and torn in several places, his long shoulder-length blond braid is disheveled, and he has a bandage wrapped around his right hand. Jean frowns when he realizes that there are signs of a recent titan transformation around the smaller man’s sky-blue eyes. _Just what were they doing right before they came here?_

Catching Armin’s gaze, Jean crosses his arms in what he hopes is a stern pose. “And what kinds of trouble have you been getting into this time, idiot?” He teases, trying to keep his genuine worry out of his voice. Armin doesn’t like to be fussed over like he’s a china doll.

“Hey Jean!” Armin calls and pulls free of Eren and Mikasa to glomp Jean, his thin arms wrapping him up in a surprisingly strong grip. He smells like horses, sweat, and blood, but there’s a faint undertone of something warm and woody that Jean always associates with Armin.

Jean feels his stomach flip and a flush start creeping up his neck. _Gonna ignore that for now_. He awkwardly pats Armin on the head a few times then ruffles his hair so that it’s even messier. “H-hey to you too.”

Armin releases him and smiles up at him with an expression that’s just a little too earnest. “I haven’t been up to anything too serious,” he equivocates.

“Uh-huh,” Eren comes up to casually throw an arm around his childhood friend, looking him with some concern. “That’s why you have shifter marks right now?”

“No, really!” Armin insists as Sasha starts steering the whole big group back to the bar and the patrons start murmuring amongst each other again, though their eyes continue to dart to friends’ reunion. “We were just helping some local farmers whose barn had collapsed rescue their livestock. Right, Commander?”

Hange nods as they settle onto a barstool. “Cattle are still an incredibly valuable asset; we need to stabilize the population so that the farms can raise enough to produce both milk and beef for as many communities as possible. Armin transformed to assist with freeing the trapped animals and then had to rest a bit before we could make it here.”

Sasha licks her lips as she pulls beer for her three new guests. “Yeah, beef is _definitely_ and important asset.”

“Speaking of which,” Jean says as the door opens and a serving lad comes out with a tray laden with delicious smelling cutlets and potatoes and his stomach gives a rumble. “Could we have our dinner now please?”

“Oh, yes please! I’m starving!” Armin perks up eagerly, his eyes shining. Eren guffaws and Mikasa pats Armin on the shoulder. Sasha nods and calls to Connie. Connie come forth with a bounteous selection of hot food almost immediately, and as Jean tucks in he marvels at how good food can taste. The fare at Outpost Erwin, while better than the rations he ate in the dark days of the war, pales in to comparison to this feast. The whole group is quiet for a while as they enjoy their meal, the three members of the Survey Corps and Jean eating with perhaps a little more gusto because they’ve been working and traveling for the whole day.

After they finish their meal Eren and Mikasa pepper Armin and Hange with questions. Jean listens with sleepy contentment as the Survey Corps officers describe their latest foray into the wilds of the world: the snow-capped peaks they’ve seen, the monstrous cats they encountered on the slopes, the mountain filled with liquid fire that Armin has learned from communications with Outsider scientists is called “lava.” Armin then returns fire by asking about the political climate in the capital, the policies that Historia and Ymir are currently churning out, military gossip from the special ops that Eren and Mikasa joined. Jean doesn’t have much to contribute to this conversation either since Outpost Erwin is quite removed from high politics, so he listens more than he talks. He learns that Historia and Ymir are allowing an Outsider civilization called Avalon to set up an embassy in wall Sina, and that the Avalonians will be returning the favor soon. Armin nods. “We’ve had a note from her majesties about that. Queen Consort Ymir wants to take a few Survey Corps squads as a contingent of the diplomatic party, so we can expand our own maps and develop new technology. Ymir really seems to respect these people, I wonder if she knew something about them from before she came into the Walls.”

“What are the Avalonians like? I’ve heard of them but I haven’t actually met any,” Jean pipes up. Their conflict from a decade ago had mainly been with the Hometown humans and their titan Warriors, but they were gradually learning the world was much bigger than had previously been assumed. It was incredibly jarring to go from assuming that you were the last vestiges of humanity to realizing you were anything but, and Jean couldn’t help but be incredibly curious about the Outsider humans.

Eren pauses to think. “Just like us, but better dressed, and with more technology. We speak the same language though,” he responds after mulling his answer over.

Jean rolls his eyes at Armin and the blond boy replies with a stern look. Eren’s obsession with the outside world had apparently had more to do with his dissatisfaction at being caged within the Walls than with the same kind of burning curiosity that Armin always displayed. Jean supposes he can’t talk though; at least Eren had journeyed out to the mysterious Ocean, an apparently vast expanse of salt water, while Jean had remained relatively close to the Walls even after the settlement process began.

“I haven’t met any myself,” Armin offers. “But I’ve heard they’re the ones who gave us the specs for the telegraph.”

“Fascinating device, the telegraph!” Hange enthuses, adjusting their goggles. “I’ve been thinking there must be a way to modify it, to perhaps create another device that could carry sound! Think of how much easier communication could be if we could speak directly to one anoth—”

“Well, this has been fun,” Pendleton suddenly interrupts, standing up with a significant look at her commander. “But I think it’s getting late and we should head back to the barracks. Remember you have to report to their majesties in the morning, Commander.”

Hange polishes off their glass of beer and stands up, stretching. “Oh yes, yes. I know, no need to fuss.” They look over at Armin. “You coming, Armin?”

Armin shakes his head. “I’m staying with Eren and Mikasa, so you go on ahead, Commander.”

Hange nods and drops two silver coins on the bar. “Report in tomorrow morning then.” The whole crew stand up to salute as Hange and Pendleton exit the tavern. Jean takes a moment to notice that they’ve been drinking and chatting so long that the bar is almost empty, with only a few other local patrons still nursing their drinks by the fireplace. Armin sits back down with a bit of a groan. Eren puts a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Do you want to head out now too, Armin? You must be exhausted.”

“Nah, I’m still enjoying being here with everyone. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you all!” He smiles around at them then, Jean to his left, Eren and Mikasa to his right, Sasha and Connie across the bar from him. Jean’s tired too but he’s glad that Armin’s decided to stay a little longer; everything seems just a little brighter with slim young man around. By this point in the evening Jean’s had another beer and is feeling a little too tipsy to worry if he’s staring too much at Armin. Armin’s not as strikingly beautiful as Mikasa, but he’s quite handsome in a boyish way with his long yellow hair, his large bright blue eyes, and his strong, thoughtful brows. Armin takes another sip of his beer and then asks. “So how’s the wedding planning going?”

“Wonderfully!” Sasha answers at the same time Eren says “Fine, I guess.” Sasha looks at Eren with mild hurt in her big brown eyes. Jean snorts.

“That’s how it going,” he chuckles.

“And what would you know about weddings, _Jean-boy_?” Sasha teases. “You can’t hold onto a relationship for more than two months at a time.”

“That’s not true!” Jean protests. “I was with Hitch for at least a year and half.” _And I had that thing with Jeremy for another six months after that_ , he almost adds, but catches himself. _Not yet, not right now. Not with Armin looking at me and Eren snickering into his cups._

Sasha rolls her eyes. “Fine. But you don’t have a date to the wedding, do you?”

Jean mutters obscenities and shakes his head that he doesn’t. Armin smiles kindly at him from across the bar. “Don’t worry about it Jean, I don’t have a date either. They forget how hard it can be to maintain relationships in the field.” Jean grunts in response and reaches for his pint to have something to do to hide the blush creeping across his cheeks. _So Armin’s on his own too, huh? Not that I care, because I don’t care. I don’t care at all._

A wicked smile spreads across Sasha’s normally kind face. “We-ell, the solution is obvious; you two should go with each other!”

Jean chokes on his drink. Eren sputters to hide a laugh, whether at Sasha’s suggestion or Jean’s reaction is difficult to tell. Jean shoots him a glare even as he feels his ears turning red. Suddenly he feels a small hand on his right shoulder and almost jumps again when he sees it belongs to Armin. “I’ll go with you if you’d like Jean,” Armin says earnestly, his blue eyes meeting Jean’s once before glancing at the floor. There’s a light pink blush underneath the dirt on his face, but Jean can’t tell if it’s from the alcohol he’s imbibed or the embarrassing situation they’re in. “That might keep them off our backs.”

Jean’s a little bit off balance from the alcohol and flustered from how endearing Armin’s earnestness is. _So cute, but so messy. Not for you, Jean-boy. He’s probably being polite, Sasha’s made a right mess of things!_ “Ah, y-you don’t have to offer . . . I mean no pressure, but it’s still very k-kind of you. . .” _Dammit, don’t stutter, don’t stutter. That’s such a giveaway!_

“Well if neither of you come up with someone else in the next couple of days, I’m sitting you next to each other for the dinner,” Sasha warns sternly as she gathers up their dinner plates. Armin removes his hand from Jean and the conversation moves on. Jean breathes a little sigh of relief. He glances over at Eren and Mikasa to notice the latter is suddenly fixing him with a cold, assessing stare.

_Shit!_

Jean stands up from the bar suddenly, his travel-weary muscles protesting a little bit. “W-well I’m actually beat, so I’m, uh, going to head on up to bed now.” He had arranged to rent a room from at the tavern for the duration of his stay on a special friend’s discount from Connie and Sasha. “How much for the chow, Sasha?”

She shakes her head, her bun wobbling so that a few stray strands slip out. “No payment tonight. We’ll throw your meals in with your rent, for old time’s sake.” Considering how cheaply they’re renting a room to him, Jean knows this is a very generous offer. Sasha and Connie must be doing well, or Eren and Mikasa must be paying them a pretty penny to host their nuptials. Jean thanks Sasha as she hands him a key to room number 2 and then he wishes everyone a good night, trying to look simply tired rather than flustered. He can feel Mikasa’s gaze burning into his back he makes his way across the room to the stairs on the second level and tries to walk as nonchalantly as possible; if he bolts she’ll become even more suspicious.

A monologue runs through Jean’s head as he makes his way upstairs and into his room: _Armin’s just your best friend, Jean. He’s just your best friend, and he’s handsome and you can acknowledge that. But don’t ruin it by developing feelings for him; there are plenty of other people out there. Armin’s off-limits, alright? He’s never around, so you won’t really get any action, and he’s terrible at writing letters, so you’ll be even more worried about him out there in the big world than you already are. Shit, don’t think about the logistics! Stop it, stop it!_

Jean plops down on the bed in the center of the small but comfortable room and smacks his forehead. _And he’s out of your league anyway._

Despite his exhaustion it takes Jean’s suddenly racing mind a while to settle into sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> So. Well. 
> 
> I don't have an outline for this, but I distinctly remember the plot now that I've re-read this. I daydreamed it up on bus rides to and from campus in Fall Semester last year. Here are some weird things I noticed reading this that made me laugh:
> 
> -Sasha is pregnant again?!?! What is it with me and pregnant Sasha, who knows.  
> -Levi is apparently dead. I remember why and where I was going with that, but it's still kind of dramatic, isn't it?  
> -There's existential mid-twenties angst; I'm sorry, that's just who I am right now.  
> -My world-building is kind of goofy, I'm sorry; I'm not good at it. If I pick this back up after my exams (which I might do!) I promise I'll flesh that out a bit more  
> -Jean and Hitch, apparently . . . and Jeremy? More bisexual Jean, at least.  
> -Jean takes Sasha's pregnancy a lot better in this fic  
> -Ymir is alive and married to Historia and they are LESBIAN QUEENS. This was something I wanted so so so so badly, and then Isayama had to crush my dreams (I still love him though)  
> -I predicted he eyepatch before the eyepatch!! . . . it was so hard to predict, I know xD  
> -I assume I wiki'd how telegrams work before I put them in this fic; appologies for inaccuracies!
> 
> Anyway, let me know what you think, haha. Don't worry, I can take it xD Thanks for reading!!


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